


Poison and Puzzles

by TheDreadfulRomantic



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Childhood Trauma, Established Relationship, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock Angst, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, Minor Irene Adler/Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft's Meddling, Parent!lock, Parentlock, Protective Mycroft, Sherlock Alternate Universe, Violence, caselock, past relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-09 13:49:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3252146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDreadfulRomantic/pseuds/TheDreadfulRomantic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wasn't old enough to remember all of it. When he came. I was five or six. I just remember the screaming and the blood. I thought I was dying, but…no. He was so much crueler than that. The monster in all my future fairy tale thoughts. He even left a mark. Deep enough that ten years later it’s still horrid and ugly. It’s forever. Papa had sewn up the wounds. I remember that part too. I wouldn't let anyone else touch me. Wouldn't let anyone but my parents within a few feet of me. I’d just start screaming. Not that Da had tried to come anywhere near me. That’s when I stopped believing in Heroes. That’s when I stopped believing that my Da was invincible. That’s when I stopped believing in Sherlock Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. My Fathers Daughter

**Author's Note:**

> Some characters and warnings remain unlisted to avoid spoilers. I don't own anything. Feedback appreciated. Also this wasn't Brit Picked or edited, so forgive me. If interested let me know!

I woke up screaming again. I was awake and sitting up by the time I heard the feet pounding up the stairs to my room. I could tell it was only one set of footsteps, but my hammering heart still held out hope, that maybe he would come this time. No. The sounds on the stairs would be farther apart. Da had longer legs. Papa then. That was alright. “Emmalynn?” He was already calling for me.

 

My Papa used to be a soldier. He understood about my nightmares. He knew they weren’t just childish things that needed to be put behind me. He got them too, maybe not the same as mine, but sometimes he still woke up shaking. Some nights we’d both have them, and accidentally meet downstairs. He’d make me a cuppa and we’d sit in silent understanding. Not tonight. Tonight it hurt.

 

“My chest. It. Hurts.” I managed through shaky breaths. A Panic attack then. It had been awhile since I’d had to deal with one of these.

 

Papa sat next to me on the bed. “Look at me. See if you can copy my breaths.” I knew the routine but I needed to hear it. Just like he knew I would be multitasking. So just in line with my peripheral vision he opened and closed his fingers in time with his breathing as well. I was able to calm down enough and nodded that he could stop. His cold hands caressed my forehead and cheek, which felt amazing. Comfort. I needed that.

 

“Do you want a cuppa, or do you just want water? We could talk if-” I shook my head. I never talked about it, but he always asked.

 

“Maybe just water. It’s still early. I have school in the morning.” I needed to get back to sleep. He nodded absently, thinking over something, but he didn’t say anything about it.

 

“I’ll be right back.” He squeezed my hand and headed back out of my room. I listened carefully. The footsteps made it down the stairs and into the kitchen, but didn’t stop. He went back to their room. I would die to know more than where he was in the house. To be able to hear their hushed voices. To hear what Da would say to Papa telling him I’d had the nightmare again. I just needed to know that he worried too. That my pain mattered to him. The footsteps returned to the kitchen. Papa was slamming the cabinets harder than necessary. Right. Maybe I didn’t want to hear what Da had said after all.

 

I’m almost sixteen now. You’d think after almost ten years I’d have gotten over it enough to sleep through the night. You’d think I’d have given up on Da changing at all. You’d think a lot of things, and yet it was all the same. How utterly boring.

 

~~~

 

 

I straightened my school uniform and contemplated my hair in the mirror. I had tamed most of my jet black curls but I still had time to straighten it if I wanted. No. I had rehearsal later. I leaned down to grab my bag and head downstairs when I caught the scars in the mirror. The nightmare flashed to memory again. I picked up my shirt enough to see the rest of them, tracing with a finger. They’d never completely explained- I hear pounding up the stairs and quickly tuck my undershirt in again before a tall, dark haired and scrawny Irish girl appears in my doorway. Madeline James. My best friend.

 

“Are you coming? I have Oliver with me so we’ve got to get there a bit early. Sorry.” Madeline’s twin brother Oliver was in debate club, which met a half hour before school. I could grab a snack on my way out and maybe make a little money before class.

 

“Yeah, I’ll say good bye and meet you out front.” I grab my tarot cards from my nightstand and throw them in my backpack on our way out. Madeline continues down and out of the flat but I stop in the kitchen. Papa is sitting at the table, sipping at a coffee and scanning the paper, pretending not to be watching whatever Da was up to in the living room.

 

“Leaving a bit early.” I breathed through the obvious statement. Papa closed the paper and stood, pulling me into a hug.

 

“It’s just school John.” Da grumbled from the living room, Papa threw a glare in his direction, but seeing as Da didn’t look up it went unnoticed.

 

“Go say good bye to your Dad.” I almost grumbled, but went for another approach. I pecked a kiss to Papa’s cheek.

 

“I just did.” Before he could scold me, I grabbed a pear from the table and threw it in Da’s direction, he caught it without much effort and took an absent bite.

 

“Thank you. Have a nice day Emmalynn.” I grabbed another piece of fruit for myself and headed down the stairs and out the door.

 

~~~

 

When we reached the school Oliver jumped out of the car before Madeline had a chance to throw it into park. “Well Hell, in a hurry?” Madeline yelled out the window, but he was already racing towards the stairs. She just rolled her eyes, exasperated. “He isn’t even late.” She was right, he was actually ten minutes early.

 

Oliver and I used to be as close as Maddie and I. Somewhere in the last three years he’d grown distant, and I hadn’t bothered to try and close the gap. I guess sometimes people just grew apart.

 

“So, want to help me find some idiots to give me money?” I smiled and held up my tarot cards. “I’ll split it with you.” She was on board before I even offered to pay her.

 

Madeline was one of the few people outside of the family that knew what I could do. It wasn’t magic, it wasn’t lying, it wasn’t psychic ability. It was observation and deduction. Da would be proud. After all, I’d gotten it from watching him.

 

I picked a set of side stairs and sat with my cards laid out in front of me. A few kids came early to school for various activities so it wasn’t hard for my best friend to find us a mark. They placed their money in a small leather bag I’d brought with me and using the cards to distract them I told them everything I’d learned just by looking at them. I was the normal things, they wanted to know how they were going to do on a test or if one of the upperclassman they were mooning over felt the same way. Usually it wasn’t difficult and I never felt bad about what I was doing.

 

“You’re worried about what your Mum and Dad were fighting about this morning.” I mumbled, not hiding the sympathy from my voice. The girl in front of me was mousy and quiet, but one look in her eyes told me I was right. Sometimes I hated being right. I reached out for her hand, and she flinched, but let me grasp it. I did my best to avoid looking at the large purple bruise at her wrist. “You have to tell someone.” I said under my breath, just loud enough for her to hear. I grabbed her money and passed it back to her, it just didn’t seem right to keep it. She scurried away in a hurry after that.

 

The girl was the last of a lot of clients. I had more money than I needed at this point anyway. Madeline sat next to me on the stairs. I counted out the money and handed her half. “As promised.”

 

Madeline grinned in spite of yourself. “You are brilliant.” The warning bell sounded and I stood, gathering my things and placing my money back in my bag for later.

 

“Need a ride to rehearsal this afternoon?” We didn’t have any classes together, so I wouldn’t see Madeline again until lunch.

 

“No I have a project so I’ll be a little late.” She looked disappointed and chewed her lip like she meant to tell me to skip but thought better of it.

 

“Alright. I’ll see you at lunch.” She kissed my cheek and headed off to class.

 

~~~

 

Classes passed without much excitement. Though I had private studies as a compromise between my parents, (Da wanted to continue my home schooling while Papa thought I needed to be around more children my age. I didn’t get a say.) I still felt like everything was moving far too slow for me. The book the professor had assigned was dull and meaningless, not to mention I’d read it on my own ages ago.

 

My mind was spent elsewhere most of the time. My grades stayed perfect, and that seemed to be all that anyone was concerned with either way.

 

I waited out the day and was too quiet for Madeline’s liking at lunch, but true to her character she didn’t say anything. She didn’t like risking an argument with me. Heaven knew why, we didn’t really fight. It made me wonder about her other friends, and maybe even Oliver. Though Oliver was so quiet and brooding it would surprise me that he knew how to raise his voice or be argumentative in any way.

 

It wasn’t until the final bell rang and I turned on my mobile that things started getting more interesting. First was the text.

 

 _Do you like_ puzzles _Emmalynn?_

 

It was from an unlisted number, but the use of my name assured me that it wasn’t a mistake. It wasn’t the first message I had gotten like this. I’d gotten emails, Instant messages, all the same. I’d never replied or gotten anywhere trying to trace where any of the messages had come from. I hadn’t mentioned it to anyone else. It seemed odd, but harmless. Something of my own to investigate. Fun. I didn’t respond, but I filed it for later inspection, when I had more time to mull it over.

 

Instead I focused on the task at hand.

 

I walked towards the shops that were not quite far enough from the school for my liking. I’d changed into a plain shirt and trousers, trying to keep them as simple as possible, things that wouldn’t draw attention to myself, or be worth mentioning later. I kept my hair down and let it hide my face as much as possible from the people busying by and into shops. I walked to my destination, a small alleyway between a tea shop and a Bakery. I walked about halfway down and pulled a pack of cigarette’s from my pocket. I placed one between my lips and lit it, taking a long practiced drag, relaxing. Finally I was able to put myself in the correct state of mind. I let go of the day and the curiosities of puzzles. I let my body slink into a comfortable yet very unlike me pose. I let everything quiet and finally I could focus.

 

Focus, for instance, on the boy coming down the alley towards me. I didn’t put my cigarette out until he was standing directly in front of me. I let my mind open as my eyes wandered to record as much information as I could. He was maybe my age, perhaps a year or two older. Eyes vibrant blue, hair colored brown, natural blond. He was wearing clothes that weren’t his usual, like myself. How odd. Why would he be hiding too? The clothing didn’t suggest any sort of gang affiliation, if anything he was trying to look like a nobody. Interesting. I loved interesting.

 

“Emma, right?” I didn’t bother correcting him, I just nodded, shyly, looking up at him from under my lashes. The perfect cliche I was sure he wanted me to be. I pulled the out money I collected from my peers this morning and passed it to him. He put it in his pocket, not bothering to count it. The money didn’t really matter to him, which concerned me. I pushed the note aside for later. He grabbed my wrist and turned my palm up, placing a glass vial filled with red liquid in my hand. Phoenix Blood. It was a foolish name, but if everything I heard was true it was very fitting. He still held my wrist after I closed my hand. “Two drops on the tongue love, no more. Got it?” I nodded. “And no sharing. If anyone is interested put them in touch.” I nodded again. He wanted to say more, but he kept looking me over instead. He wasn’t hiding his interest.

 

“I should go, I have somewhere to be.” I pulled away and put the vial in my pocket.

 

“You sure you do?” He asked, all of a sudden a lot closer to me than I was comfortable with. He grabbed me, placing his hands at my waist. “Stay a bit.”

 

~~~

 

“Did you need to assault the boy?” I was in the back of my Uncles car, changing into my clothes for rehearsal. He wasn’t pleased with how my meeting had gone. I held up the vial to inspect it further. I had already told him everything I’d observed about the boy up until he’d gotten a bit too fresh and I’d had to remove myself from the situation. With an elbow to his nose.

 

I passed the vial to my Uncle and he placed it in the breast pocket of his suit jacket.

 

“You’re going to pass it on to Da after you have it tested, aren’t you?” It was a stupid idea. If Da chose to pursue the case it’s likely that he’d run into someone that could give him my description and he’d soon figure out my and Uncle Myc’s ‘little arrangement’.

 

“Don’t worry, I’m sure we can figure this one out without him. Besides, I think after this afternoon you’re further involvement makes little sense.” He said it simply, but cautiously, anticipating my argument.

 

“So you’re firing me?” I scoffed.

 

“No, you’re family, I simply no longer require your assistance in the matter.” Translation. Yes, I was canned.

 

“Are you still coming to my recital Friday?” I changed the subject, apparently to one he was even less comfortable with.

 

“Yes, and I know I promised I would try and talk him into-” I cut him off there, this was something I was getting all too familiar with.

 

“You promised to blackmail him, but I’m guessing that didn’t go over well.” I hated how much I sounded like a disappointed toddler.

 

“No. He’s planning on telling you he and Lestrade have an urgent case.” At least someone knew I couldn’t be lied to.

 

“And I will pretend not to mind, and we both will be able to tell the other is lying.” Uncle Myc looked at a loss for words, like he wanted to comfort me but wasn’t used to the idea or practice.

 

“I’m sorry Emmalynn. Really.” At least he sounded sorry. I looked up. Yeah, he actually felt bad for me. My stomach knotted. That was even worse than I thought him not caring would be.

 

“Part of me wonders what would happen if we told them that I helped you with investigations. If he would be proud.” I don’t know why I said it out loud.

 

“John would murder me. Sherlock-” He stopped, thinking it over, and then trying to decide what he wanted to tell me. “I’m sure he would be stuck between selfish pride and horror that someone might be better at this than he is.” I couldn’t help but smile at that.

 

The car rolled to a slow stop in front of the dance studio and I got out of the car, turning to flash him one last half smile. “Thank you, and I’m sorry I broke your leads nose.”

 

“You are your fathers daughter, and I’m not referring to Sherlock. That move and temper were all Watson.” He flashed the smallest hint of a smile and I closed the car door, heading towards the studio. I was perfectly content with that observation.

 

~~~

 

I was lost in the music. More than usual. I was suddenly grateful I had switched to Contemporary dance two years ago and convinced Madeline to join me at the last second. We were both sick of Ballet. Da hadn’t been to a recital to notice, and I wasn’t sure if he’d care. Papa had been supportive, and Uncle Myc pretended to be as indifferent as always. Madeline’s parents had been furious. Apparently they didn’t see much dignity in Contemporary. I thought it was raw and beautiful and perfect. With help I’d created this routine myself. It was rage and hate and everything I’d ever wanted to scream at the top of my lungs. He’d notice if he came. He’d finally see. I’m still here you bloody idiot. I’m still breathing and hurting and waiting for my Da to save me. Everything I do is in the hope that he’ll notice and I hate it. I hate that he makes me try. I hate that every time I make a decision it’s twisted in his direction.

 

The music stopped and I hadn’t realized that I was crying. I shoved off the stage, grabbing my backpack and shoes and heading for the door. I ignored Madeline calling my name. I’d text her an apology later. My mind was too alive at the moment. I contemplated calling Uncle Myc for a ride home, but I don’t want to push the limits of his obvious surveillance. Fine. I’d walk. It wasn’t that far from home. My phone went off again.

 

_Do you like Puzzles Emmalynn?_

 

_Love them. What did you have in mind?-EHW_

 


	2. Just ask it of me.

Madeline opened her notebook and pressed down the page. “Right, so from where we left off. Peter McClellan, Fox or Troll?” She raised a haughty eyebrow and I couldn't decide if I wanted to roll my eyes or laugh.We were still on school grounds, killing time before we headed to rehearsal. Our recital was tomorrow. Da still hadn't given his excuse for not being able to make it yet.

I tried to pay attention to her while at the same time flicking through my phone.

“You can’t break the world down into Foxes and Trolls.” I spoke without looking up. We've been playing this ‘game’ of ours since we’d decided boys could be more interesting than first anticipated. Foxes were perfect matches…trolls well, you get the idea.

“Not the world, just the potential boyfriends.” She winked, her grin never left her face, though when I glanced up I could tell that she was a little put off by how little attention I was really paying her. I felt a little guilty, but continued my work of copy and pasting old text messages to a notepad app I could bring up on my laptop later. “Should we add more categories then?” She asked, and when I didn’t answer she rolled her eyes and began to scribble new columns onto the page of her notebook. I scrolled through my text messages, pondering over the newest riddle from my newly acquired friend.

“Alright then. Peter McClellan. Fox, Creeper, Puppy, or Troll.” Madeline said after a moment, I suppressed a laugh. “She lives.” Madeline mused, her eyes finally matching her smile, as she gained my full attention.

“I don’t even want to know the criteria.” I looked up from my phone, prepared to put it down, but Madeline scooted over on the bench we were seated on to get a better view of my phone.

“What’s this then, that is oh so much more important than me?”

“It’s a riddle.” For the last three days I’d been getting riddles and puzzles to my phone and emails. I still couldn't figure out where they were coming from, which seemed like the more interesting puzzle. I contemplated asking one of my Uncles to run a trace but Mycroft was busy with the Phoenix Blood case, and Uncle Greg was prone to tell my parents about these types of things. Besides, the texts had all been harmless fun so far.

“Read it to me.” Madeline was struggling to read off the screen of my phone. I recited for her:

 _“I make you weak at the worst of all times._  
_I keep you safe, I keep you fine._  
_I make your hands sweat, and your heart grow cold,_  
_I visit the weak, but seldom the bold._  
_What am I?”_ I finished reading the second to last riddle to her, the one I’d already solved this morning at breakfast. She scrunched up her nose and eventually shrugged.

“Never heard that one before.” She took a bag of crisps from her backpack and busied herself with her notebook again.

“That one I had trouble with first time around too, I was over thinking it.” I read it to her again. “The answer is ‘fear’ get it?” Madeline chewed on the end of her pencil a moment.

“Yeah, that does make sense. Hm. Got another one?” She started to seem more interested than before, but I cold tell she wished we would just go back to rating boys based on unrealistic compatibility standards.

“Yes, actually. _‘What's sweeter than sugar to the creator, and more painful than a cleaver slicing the receiver?’_ I’m actually stuck on this one. I think I might be thinking too hard again.” I bit at the bottom of my lip in thought, but Madeline seemed to perk up.

“It’s one of your major downfalls.” Madeline pouted with mock sympathy. “I know this one though. A friend of the family used to read Ollie and I this old creepy nursery rhyme book. This one was in it, it’s actually part of a longer story. The answer is ‘Revenge.’” The moment she said it I felt foolish for not having figured it out at first glance. When I sent the text the reply was simple and quick.

_‘Correct’_

“Thanks Maddie.” I grinned and returned my phone to my pocket. I needed to pay more attention to my friend before she stopped trying to pay me any mind at all. Papa was always warning me not to get lost in my own head.

“Those are odd though. Fear? Revenge? Is it one of those text messaging scams? If so stop paying for it, it’s creepy.” I didn’t think much of her concern, I was enjoying the bit of curious fun, besides, yesterdays answers had been ‘Pancakes’, ‘Music’, and ‘Outer Space’. I doubt they had any sort of running theme.

“Fox, by the way.” I pointed at her notebook. “Chiseled jaw line, Cellist, gentleman, Peter is an obvious Fox.” I giggled in spite of myself and Madeline scribbled the name in the appropriate column of her book.

~~~

 

Rehearsal went by faster than I wanted it to. I had shot texts to Da all afternoon about the recital and he hadn't responded. It wasn't like him. My Da was many things, distant being the least of my problems, but he never out right ignored me. My Da loved me, whether he knew how to show me or not. I gave up and text Papa instead.

 

_Da is ignoring me -EHW_

 

_Please tell me you’ll be home soon? -JW_

 

It wasn't the answer I was looking for, actually it made my stomach feel full of rocks.

 

As soon as I stepped through the door of 221B I knew all hell had broken loose. Papa was standing at the top of the stairs, his hands rubbing over his face in exasperation. When he saw me he looked at a loss. “I don’t know what he’s looking for. He just started yelling. Emmalynn if you just tell me-” There were a series of crashes from my room. I pushed past Papa.

 

“I haven’t done a bloody thing.” I growled as I stormed up the rest of the stairs into my room. My father was ripping through my room, having overturned everything that wasn’t attached. The mattress was overturned, books pulled off shelves. “You’re slipping. Getting senile in your old age maybe?” I leaned against the door frame. Screaming at him wouldn’t do anything. I knew what he was looking for, I knew what he thought. Idiot.

 

I don’t know why, but, even though my Da was the most clever person in all of London, he could be such an idiot. He could deduce and analyze the world, but unless forced to look directly at me, to look at what I was showing him, he didn’t see a damn thing. He could have entire conversations in silence, I’ve seen him do it with Uncle Myc, and yet here we were, reduced to ransacking a room that frankly, didn’t deserve it.

 

“Where is it?” He still wasn’t looking at me. “I was informed that three days ago you met with a dealer and made a purchase.” I simply raised an eyebrow, waiting. He was pulling clothes from my hamper going through the pockets. “Dammit Emmalynn this substance has killed people!” For a moment my composure was shaken by his lack of the same. He wasn’t just angry, he was scared. I didn’t know how to process that. He finally turned and glanced me over, the moment of worry and panic seemed to melt away all at once. “It’s not here.”

“No. It isn’t.” I clarified, squaring my shoulders once more, defiantly. “You might compare notes with Uncle Myc before you take the word of one of yours over trusting your own daughter.”

 

“It’s because you’re my daughter-” He stopped himself, seeming to realize that he was making himself look even more foolish.

 

“Apology accepted.” I spoke with more confidence then I felt. Honestly I wanted to curl into the overturned mattress and sob, frustration was my entire body. I’m so worn out from rehearsal. I am nothing more than nerve endings and sleep deprivation. Can’t he see that? “Now will you leave so I can clean up your mess?” He breezed past me before the sentence was even finished and I could hear the impending argument as Papa struggled to catch up with the turn of events. I finally let the tears I had been holding back fall.

 

I feel frustrated. I’m angry that he didn't trust me. At the same time, he’s had someone watching over me. He cared enough to be concerned that I was involved in something so stupid. I start piling my books back onto their shelves and push the mattress back on the bed when I hear my name several times. Their fighting about me. I could have expected that.

 

Careful to make little to no noise, I climb down my stairs and position myself so that I can hear the argument without being seen.

 

“Honestly Sherlock, you could have talked to me about this first! That’s all I ask, you consult me before you go investigating our daughter!” Papa isn't angry, not really, more struggling to understand so he can fix it. That’s Papa’s job, fixing us. That’s the doctor in him. Always fixing things.

 

“I didn't investigate her. I just had her followed. A few times.” Da sounds exhausted. I wonder what else he’s been up to.

 

“A few times. Not once did you mention to me that you had a reason to suspect-” There was a bite to his voice. That would be the solider part.

 

“She’s been smoking, she’s been lying about where she’s going, I thought-” I've only smoked four cigarettes my entire life. I would have told him that. If he’d asked. I thought it would have helped me focus, to remember important details and keep me alert. It didn’t. So I quit. That was that. But he never bloody asked.

 

“You thought she was turning into you.” It’s a statement, not a question. “Sorry Sherlock but that ship has sailed.” Papa is scolding, I don’t know how to feel about what he’s said. It’s said like an insult, but Papa’s voice is softer when he speaks again. “You might have tried talking to her. Mycroft however, you can shout at him all you want, in fact I’d like to have a word with him myself.”

 

There was a long pause.

 

“Sherlock, you should talk to her.” His tone is pleading at a lost cause. He’d knew the answer before he spoke the words.

 

“No need, she already accepted my apology.”

 

“Why do I feel like that’s not exactly what happened?” I had to hold back a sarcastic scoff.

 

“I’m going to talk to Mycroft. Anything you want me to pass along?”

 

“I would tell you to punch him, but I’ve been punched by you lately, it’s not what it used to be, it wouldn’t be nearly what he deserves.”

 

“I love it when you talk about damaging my brother.” They had calmed down significantly, I’m happy for that. No matter what the reason, I hate it when my parents fight. I especially hate when it’s about me. They could be so in love, and yet when it comes to me…I’ve never heard them agree on anything the first time around.

 

As they kissed I moved back up the stairs to work on putting my room back together.

 

After I heard the front door close, I shot a warning text to my Uncle.

 

_Fair warning. Da’s been spying on me. Had to throw you under the bus. Apologies. -EHW_

 

I heard footsteps up the stairs and after a moment turned to see Papa assessing the damage.

  
“Oh Em. I’m sorry.” He looked torn. I guess he didn’t realize how bad it was. “I should have made him stay and help you. Bloody hell I’m sorry.”

 

“Why should you be, he’s the one that’s done it.” I shook my head. Like Da would have stayed if held at gunpoint to clean up his own mess.

 

“Your Father…he…” He hesitated, trying to find the right words. There weren’t any. I didn’t feel like hearing any excuses.

 

“Don’t. Not right now. Can you just help me?”

 

“Right. Fine.” He bent down and started shoving my clothes back in their designated places.

 

We were both silent for awhile. Papa kept biting at his lips and checking his phone, as if it would hold the answer to whatever was on his mind.

 

“Spit it out then.” I finally relented.

 

“He just worries about you, and so do I. You shouldn’t be out with Mycroft investigating god knows what-”

 

“You’re right, I should be working with you two, or Uncle Greg.”

 

“No. Emmalynn despite the way you speak and act, you are still a child. I don’t know why you are in such a hurry to grow up.”

 

“You know why.” It was true. We’d talked about it once. Just once. Last year. After a particularly bad nightmare. I’d asked him to teach me how to shoot his gun. He wouldn’t let me go back to sleep until I explained why.

 

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

 

“Oh so you’re going to ‘delete’ it?” I asked mockingly, my head was starting to hurt and all the words I wanted to say just turned bitter on my tongue.

 

“Emmalynn, I’m trying to help you. I know you are getting upset, god knows I know your temper. That being said you need to get a hold of it before you find yourself grounded.”

 

“You’re going to ground me? Seriously? For what? Participating in the family business?” I scoffed, my voice raising.

 

“I don’t know why you feel like you have to do this Emmalynn.” He shook his head, utterly drained. Papa had never looked so old to me.

 

“You know why I need to do this. I’m going to find him-” Papa slammed one of my books onto the shelf, making the whole thing teeter a bit. He’d gone paper white, his hands shaking.

 

“No. _Stop_.” He seemed to calculate my startled expression and calm himself down. “I’ve had it with the both of you. Honestly I don’t know what it is with this family and death wishes, but I’m done.”

 

“He killed-”

 

“Emmalynn I won’t ask you again.”

 

“Papa, please, just-” But he was already walking away from me. Fuck.

 

I kicked my wall several times before collapsing into my bed, taking my phone from my bag. I had a new riddle.

 

_I never was, am always to be. No one ever saw me, nor ever will. And yet I am the confidence of all, To live and breath on this terrestrial ball. What am I?_

 

I immediately sent my answer. Obvious. Dull.

 

_The answer is ‘Tomorrow’ -EHW_

 

_Correct._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the views and Kudos! It motivates me :) The next chapter follows Sherlock rather than Emmalynn. We finally start to chip away at his feelings towards Emmalynn and their past. Stay tuned!


	3. Reset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep in mind, this chapter follows Sherlock, not Emmalynn.

Sherlock Holmes stormed into his brothers study without much time for the butler to announce him. In fact he’d left the poor man gasping for breath behind him. “Mycroft.” Sherlock practically growled, slamming the door behind him.

 

“Brother Mine.” Mycroft took a sip from his coffee and continued flicking through the paperwork on his desk with only a cursory glance at his younger brother.

 

“Emmalynn isn’t a toy, you can’t just-”

 

“Oh, she already text me that you might be a bit angry. About the cases I expect.” Mycroft was still dismissing his brother as a minor inconvenience. He didn’t see his brothers hands shaking.

 

“Cases? Of course there’s more than one.” Sherlock’s anger wasn’t disappearing, if anything Mycroft was feeding it.

 

“Frankly I haven’t seen you show this much fire since-” He finally placed his cup on its saucer and looked at Sherlock. “What’s happened?”

 

“I was informed that she was purchasing narcotics from someone. I…” He chose his words carefully. “Over reacted. Stormed her room.”

 

“Your homeless network should have informed you that she entered one of my cars shortly after, you certainly would have drawn better conclusions at that point.”

 

“It wasn’t my network that informed me.” Sherlock clipped through clenched teeth.

 

“Who-?” The words hung loosely as the brothers seemed to have a full conversation without saying a word. “Does John-?”

 

“No. He knows something wrong, but he thinks it’s guilt.” Sherlock minutely relaxed, he was still angry but it was clear Mycroft wasn’t going to give him the fight he was looking for. The fight he so desperately needed.

 

“Isn’t it?” Mycroft picked up his cup once more.

 

“I don’t have time for this.” Sherlock’s eyes narrowed.

 

“Her recital is tomorrow.” Mycroft was taking out his phone, texting with one hand.

 

“Well I very well can’t go now.”

 

“Don’t pretend you planned on it.” Mycroft scoffed.

 

“Fine.”

 

“What’s happened to you, you love her so much, and yet, here we are debating how disappointing a Father you are.” The words hurt Sherlock, but he didn’t let it show. His hands balled into fists in the pockets of his coat.

 

“You know why I have to be this way.”

 

“I know why you think you have to be. I remember a time you two were so close, inseparable. When you would have been the one guiding her through her first cases. She’d be on to homicides by now.” Sherlock looked looked straight at his brother.

 

“I don’t”

 

“What?” Mycroft cocked an eyebrow.

 

“I don’t remember. I deleted it. All of it.” Sherlock relaxed, finally finding an empty space inside himself to shove his emotions. He didn’t need them, not now. He’d already lost so much control tonight. It would take hours to undo the damage.

 

Mycroft looked like he was choking on his own breath. “Sherlock.”

 

“You have no right to judge the choices I’ve made. You know why I do it.” Sherlock’s tone was simple, controlled, and honest.

 

“She doesn’t Sherlock. The girl thinks you hate her. She doesn’t have the gift of deletion. She just woke up from her worst nightmares one day to find that her father had abandoned her.” Mycroft was angry. Almost livid. He’d been bottling his emotions then. Sherlock finally took a moment to take in the things he’d been ignoring about his brother. The deepening age and worry lines. The shirt he was wearing was worn around the collar. Odd. Mycroft replaced his wardrobe so often it made the seamstresses weep. He’d been so distracted lately. Circles under his eyes. Lack of sleep. Mycroft slept like a baby when the worlds leaders hovered their hands above red buttons. What was so distressing that he was loosing sleep? Sherlock’s mind kept calculating and cataloging as he spoke.

 

“One day-”

 

“Don’t pretend there will ever be a day. By the time you’ve convinced yourself to let there be a ‘one day’ she’ll already be lost to you.” Mycroft huffed, clearly exasperated. 

 

“She has John.” Sherlock reasoned.

 

“Thank god for that.” John. He’d almost forgotten about that. He would have some more unwelcome questions when he got home. He contemplated not going home at all. He knew that would be worse. John was not a force he wanted to fight. Ever.

 

“Wasn’t it you, Brother mine, that warned me against sentiment. Where are your wise words now?”

 

“Sherlock. You are bordering on monstrous” Mycroft was using his warning tone. What could Mycroft possibly do to him that would be worse than the reality he was already living with?

 

“No. The monster is the man that did this to us.”

 

“No Sherlock. You didn’t need any help. You did this all on your own. You could have fixed your relationship with Emmalynn a hundred times over by now.” Mycroft was silent a moment, letting Sherlock digest the conversation. “If there is one person in the world that understands how your foolish mind operates it is that girl. She may have John’s passion and rage, but she is so much of you that it makes me sick of her most days.” Mycroft’s lips curled in what may have been a smile if Sherlock thought his brother was capable of such a genuine display. “I almost feel sorry for her classmates. She’s been swindling them out of their money. Another one of your charms, a gift she could use to be an upstanding member of society and she has the schoolyard convinced she’s a psychic for hire.”

 

Sherlock allowed himself a grin for the briefest of moments. “I need her to be safe Mycroft.” He relented.

 

“It actually pains me to think that you assume I’d put her at risk for my own benefit. She’s got your dark side too Sherlock. She needs something to keep her mind working and challenged. She needs something to keep her from getting, for lack of a better term ‘ _bored_ ’. You remember bored Sherlock?" Sherlock avoided eye contact as his brother continued. "I give her puzzles and supervised jobs. She’s never been in danger, and she’s never been out of my personal sight while working for me. I can promise you, he may have eyes on her, but he has never been close enough to put her in danger.” Sherlock was the first to break their eye contact.

 

“I need you to tap her phone and computer. I need to know-”

 

“Sherlock I’m the one that bought her the bloody things, I’ve had her electronics tapped since she was eight. There’s nothing of interest. If anything comes up, I will let you know.”

 

“The cases Mycroft, they stop here. He’s taunting me with her. I can’t have it looking like I’m doing the same.”

 

“I don’t think the Phoenix Blood problem is Moriarty’s style.”

 

“It’s profitable chaos, of course he’s involved.” Sherlock didn't feel like arguing a point he shouldn't have to. His daughter, his rules. 

 

“Come to the recital Sherlock. Spend time with your daughter. You keep her active and feeling necessary. That’s how you keep her from coming back here and asking me to let her help.”

 

“Tell her no.”

 

“Right, because she will listen? No. If she comes here I will give her something to chase, because otherwise, she will go looking on her own. Neither of us wants that.” Mycroft softened. He wanted to say something else. Sherlock didn’t really want to hear it.

 

“This conversation is over.” Sherlock stormed from the study, and his brothers home.

 

~~~

 

Sherlock’s mind swam for the next several hours. He avoided going home for as long as possible. When he could no longer stand it he made his way back to 221B. It was almost three in the morning, but the light in his and John’s room was on. Sherlock leaned against the bedroom door, fully prepared to sleep on the couch. Not that he planned on sleeping much at all. He needed to clear his mind. To detox. He wanted to destroy things. He wanted to scream. He wanted to crumple into a ball on the floor and let John stroke his hair until the sun rose and he had to be himself again.

 

Sherlock tried to press all the feelings away, tried to reshape them, mask them, hide them in a space deep within him, a box never to be opened. Nothing was working. John. God he needed John.

 

“Are you coming in or are you going to stand out there like a reprimanded house pet?” Sherlock almost growled out an insult in return, but instead turned the handle and entered the bedroom. John was clearly still angry, he was sitting on the edge of their bed, his head bowed, elbows resting on his knees.

 

“Why are you still up, you can’t be that upse-”

 

“She had a nightmare.”

 

“I didn’t get to punch Mycroft for you. Apologies.” Sherlock collapsed onto the bed, dragging his thoughts with him. They were practically smothering him. He didn’t comprehend what John was saying until he repeated it twice.

 

“Dammit Sherlock, I said, ask me what the dream was about!” John was practically shouting.

 

“I don’t see how that’s important.” Sherlock shook his head in a last ditch effort to stop his mind racing.

 

“You wouldn’t would you?” John snapped, Sherlock barely registered the anger, too much. Too much.

 

“Fine. I’ll humor you.” He clicked out, enunciating every word. “What was the dream about, John.” He finally looked over at John, who had turned, rage outlining his features. Bit not good then.

 

“Our daughter woke up screaming around midnight, just got her back to sleep about an hour before you came in. I had to give her one of your sleeping tablets.” John’s eyes were brimming with tears that he wouldn’t allow to fall. Very not good then.

 

Sherlock sat up, paying attention, mind still clouded, but he did his best to push past it. “Spit it out John.”

 

“It was the usual one, it plays out like that night did, but-” Sherlock hadn’t seen John in so much pain in a long time. “Instead of us saving her, you just stood there, and watched. Not matter what she screamed to you, you just stood there.” Sherlock couldn’t breathe. “When I’d calmed her down. She asked me- _god I can’t even_ -” John rubbed at his eyes with the palm of his hands.

 

“Tell me.” Sherlock’s voice broke, John’s eyes met his worried but still angry.

 

“Please explain to me why our daughter asked me if her father and I would have been better off- no, she didn’t say better off. Fucking hell. She asked me if we’d be _happier_ , if she’d died that night.”

 

Sherlock fell apart.

 

He remembered fragments of the next hour.

 

John wouldn’t let him go and wake her. Which Sherlock would be grateful for later.

 

He remembered John bringing him the sleeping tablets after the fits of rage had subsided. John would have a bruise on his shoulder. Sherlock could add that to the list of things to feel guilty for. His knuckles would be bruised and they’d need to patch the holes in the drywall before Mrs.Hudson took notice.

 

While they waited for the tablets to take effect they lay on the cold bedroom floor, John’s hand raking through Sherlock’s hair. He planted a kiss to the detectives forehead. “What am I going to do with the two of you? Idiots. Both of you. Impossible, beautiful, idiots.” John murmured, more to himself than to Sherlock.

 

~~~

 

The next morning Sherlock is blank.

 

Everything reset.

 

The emotional turmoil from the night before.

 

**Deleted**.

 

Emmalynn came bounding down the stairs, her clothes comfortable, her hair in a sloppy bun. Her recital is tonight. Sherlock recalls after a moment.

 

Their daughter is a bundle of nerves and excitement. She bubbles around the kitchen as if last night had never happened. John leans into the fridge, passing her a lunch bag. She grabs it and kisses him lightly on the cheek. “See you tonight.” She grins slinging her backpack higher on her shoulder and turning to Sherlock.

 

“See you tonight Da?” She asks, though Sherlock can tell she knows an excuse is about to fall from his lips.

 

“Yes. He will. Now, go on, Maddie’s been horribly patient while you putter around.” Sherlock doesn’t have time to argue with John. Emmalynn’s smile falters a moment before kissing Sherlock on the cheek.

 

“Have a good day Da. Sorry about yesterday.” She apologized. Odd. He knew he’d been in the wrong. Why was she- Ah. She was apologizing for the dream. She knew John would mention it. Before he could decide whether to address it or not Emmalynn was out of the door and bounding down the stairs.

 

“Sherlock if you have any intention of ever sleeping in the same bed as me again you will be at that damn recital.” John snapped as soon as the door had clicked shut.

 

“John I can’t-”

 

“You can. And you will. I already talked to Greg and Mycroft. You have nothing urgent to see to-”

 

“Moriarty contacted me. He’s the one that told me about the drugs. Not my homeless network.” The dish that John had been holding clattered to the floor. Sherlock stood but John waved him off, his expression so mixed that Sherlock had a difficult time placing the emotions that raced across it. The dish was thrown into the sink and John retreated into their bedroom.

 

Sherlock entered the room to see John throwing clothes into a giant duffel bag.

 

“What are you doing?” Sherlock grabbed Johns arm but he wrenched it away.

 

“You just told me that man who convinced you to jump off a building and nearly _killed_ our daughter is back in town and you expect me to stay here and wait for him to start some fucking game with you?” John shook his head, exasperated. “You must be mad.”

 

“John stop. There is nothing that can be gained by running. He could be anywhere. He hasn’t been spotted in London. Besides. Running would only provoke him further.” Sherlock kept his tone calm and calculated, which only served to enrage John more.

 

“You insufferable prat!” John shoved him, causing Sherlock to take a few steps backward to maintain his balance.

 

“John, perhaps I should go so you can collect yourself.” Sherlock suggested, John just laughed hollowly.

 

“Clearly I am not speaking to the same man who was a sobbing mess on my floor last night, tortured with guilt and regret.”

 

“No. You are not.” They locked eyes for a moment before John looked away with a look that Sherlock could only categorize as disgust. 

 

“You bastard. You fecking bastard.” John was at a loss for words. Nothing but inconsistent swearing left his lips, but he’d stopped packing.

 

“How do we fight this Sherlock? How do we keep her safe?” John looked so close to tears again, Sherlock grabbed his hand, squeezing it.

 

“We don’t, John. I do.” John looked like he was going to fight those words but Sherlock cut him off. “What time is the recital?”

 

“What? Oh. Six.” John’s thoughts had been interrupted enough that he didn’t argue with Sherlock about what he had said.

 

~~~

 

John had left for work. Leaving Sherlock to his own thoughts. He knew he should work on something, keep himself busy until six o’clock but he couldn’t. He tried to sleep but every time he closed his eyes it was like something was chipping away at the fortress he’d built around the memories of that night. Part of him wanted to explore it, to see if there were any details he’d missed back then, as impossible as that sounded. The other part of him knew that taking himself back to that night would unravel him. No. He’d avoid that for as long as possible.

 

He somehow found himself wandering up to Emmalynn’s room. It was still very much a disaster. Sherlock had everything fixed and as it should be within an hour. Hopefully Emmmalynn would be pleased, or at least less angry with him.

 

“Ah, the criminal returns to the scene of the crime.” Sherlock didn’t even turn when Mycroft’s voice sounded from the hall.

 

“Shove it Mycroft. What do you want?” Sherlock snarled.

 

“I’m here to drive you to the recital. If you argu-”

 

“Let’s go then.” Sherlock cut him off crisply, briefly enjoying Mycroft’s startled look.

 

The brother’s headed out of the flat and into Mycroft’s waiting car.

 

When they finally made it to the auditorium Sherlock’s phone alerted him to a series of texts. The first was from John, telling him where their seats where. The rest where five picture messages from an unknown number. They were pictures of Emmalynn. All from today. She was wearing the same outfit she had been in this morning.

 

_Looking forward to the show, Sherlock. She’s grown so much, shame about the scars, she would be such a lovely creature without them. Oops. I never did play well with my toys. Play date soon? Xoxo_

 

“It’s him isn’t it?” Mycroft’s voice was unreadable.

 

“Yes. He’s here. Don’t say anything to John.” With that Sherlock lead him to their seats with Greg and John. Sherlock kissed John on the cheek, sitting in the seat next to him.

 

“I was afraid you’d find a reason.” John mumbled, clearly pleased Sherlock had made it.

 

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Mycroft raised an eyebrow, clearly trying very hard to keep his opinions to himself as Sherlock scanned the crowd. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the Kudos and things, it keeps me going and motivated. Not sure whose POV the next chapter will be in. I think the series will only follow Sherlock or Emmalynn. So. Hmmm. Decisions Decisions.


	4. All Debts Demand Payment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note the time shifts.

_____Roughly 10 years ago._______

 

“Da! Uncle Myc said we can have real live ponies at my party!” Sherlock picked up the little bundle of raw energy that bounded through the apartment door in front of his brother. Her dark curls were unruly, the ribbon Sherlock had meticulously placed there long forgotten and lost.

 

“He did, did he?” Sherlock narrowed his eyes, an eyebrow raised, but Mycroft simply shrugged. Sherlock took in his brothers appearance. He was disheveled, but happy, he’d actually spent the day playing with Emmalynn, not passing her between secretaries. The idiot was actually growing fond of her. Sherlock had always hoped his brother would let his guard down, if only to be completely wrapped around his niece’s little finger.

 

“You’re going to ruin all future parties we have for her.” John grumbled from his chair. Sherlock held his daughter on his hip, eying his brother.

 

“First you want the party in your home. Then you start making it more and more extravagant. You’ve always spoiled our Emma but this is different.” He was quiet a moment, Mycroft didn't look amused. “What diplomat and offspring did you invite? You know what, I don’t even want to know. Stop using my daughter to your benefit.” He scolded, as if it would make a difference.

 

“Drop it Sherlock, he’s mentioned the bloody horses, we’ll never hear the end of it if you cancel.” John pretended to find something particularly interesting in the Sunday news. “Staying for tea Mycroft?”

 

“No. I think I’ve had enough for the day.”He leaned just close enough to Sherlock that he could kiss Emmalynn on the forehead and ruffle her curls. “Goodbye love.”

 

“Don’t forget the spotted pony Uncle, I need a spotted one.” Emmalynn flashed him a hopeful smile, and Sherlock could practically see Mycroft melt. It wasn’t nearly as entertaining as Sherlock had hoped.

 

“Of course darling.” Sherlock grumbled something that sounded like ‘Sentiment, Brother mine’ but it was ignored as the eldest Holmes simply smiled sweetly at the little girl between them, before heading out the door without much more than a nod at his brother and John.

 

“They’d never find the body you know.” Sherlock looked over at John, a smirk on his lips.

 

“Don’t talk about M-u-r-d-e-r in front of the five year old, Sherlock.” John admonished him, but before Sherlock could speak up Emmalynn interrupted.

 

“I know that spells murder, I’m nearly six you know.” She placed her little hands on her hips, looking rather smug.

 

“Yes, you’re right, and I also should know who gives you your spelling words.” John glared over his paper at Sherlock, who simply looked proud. “Go bugger off and play somewhere, the both of you.” John dismissed, exasperated, getting back to his paper.

 

“What do you want to do today Emmalynn?” Sherlock asked his daughter, sure it would be another round with the plastic horses Mrs. Hudson had given her to play with. Sherlock hated that game, but he'd do anything to see their Emmalynn smile.

 

“Esperiments!” The girl suddenly shouted, Sherlock winced at the volume, but couldn’t suppress the pride, if not a bit of relief.

 

“That’s _EX_ -periments, an ‘X’ not an ‘S’. Want to try it again?” The two disappeared into the kitchen, Emmalynn repeating the word with extra emphasis several times. John hoped they wouldn’t try another messy explosion, he was still working on getting heaven knows what unstuck from the inside of the microwave.

 

_———Present Day———_

 

Sherlock twitched in his seat, John was taking it as annoyance. Mycroft of course, was the only one that knew the true reason. Lestrade looked as if he had his suspicions. Emmalynn had already performed In two numbers, and was only involved one more, her solo. So far nothing had happened to make Sherlock think any of them were in any sort of danger. Though he could not afford to be wrong when it came to things like this.

 

Sherlock was flipping through his phone when John prodded him. “She’s up next.” Sherlock’s eyes moved to the stage, his phone sliding back into his pocket. He could afford himself this one indulgence. This one moment of being proper and proud father. His daughter was talented. He knew this, she was a Holmes after all. It made sense his skill with music would flow through to her. He was the one that had suggested dance with she was young in the first place.

 

The song was nothing he’d heard before. It was violin, but nothing classic, definitely new. Electric. The music was sad, but defiant. Sherlock didn’t know when she’d moved on from Ballet, but clearly this style suited Emmalynn more. She exuded confidence and strength. It was odd, Sherlock didn’t know how to process it. The routine was chaotic, yet it clearly had structure and control. Something about the raw emotion of it bothered him. It suddenly struck him that she’d choreographed it. He could see her signature all over it. It was bits and pieces of things that Sherlock had tried too damn hard to ignore.

 

It wasn’t the first time that the thought that he hadn’t been doing everything he could for her struck him. But she was alive. She was still alive. He could hold on to that.

 

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and using the excuse he got up from his seat. His movements were too abrupt for John to consider stopping him. Sherlock breezed up the rows of seats and slipped out the side auditorium door, making as little noise as possible. As soon as he was in the hall he pressed the phone to his ear.

 

“Long time no see, how about our girl though Sherlock. She. Is. _SOMETHING_.” Moriarty’s voice was it’s usual exuberant menace coated in velvet. Speaking as if he knew a secret he loved not sharing with the class.

 

“Stay away from her.” Sherlock growled into the receiver.

 

“Oh Sherlock, it almost sounds as if you care.” Moriarty spoke with mock sentiment. “I know it’s really because you miss me. It’s been so long since we’ve had a proper chat.”

 

Sherlock left the school building, looking for any out of place vehicles or people on the street. Nothing. “Where are you?”

 

“You can look all you want Sherlock. You’ll never find me. It’s nice to know you’re trying again old friend, but for now, I think I’ll stay behind the curtain.” The phone line went dead. Sherlock swore, shoving his phone into his pocket and heading down the street. He hailed a cab and headed towards St.Barts.

 

His phone vibrated several times, mostly messages from John.

 

_What the hell was that? -JW_

 

_At least tell me you’re alive -JW_

 

_Not Dead -SH_

 

_It’s him isn’t it? -JW_

 

_If you don’t respond or come home at a decent hour Emmalynn and I won’t be here in the morning. -JW_

 

Sherlock didn’t answer, silencing his phone and returning it to his pocket. It wasn’t a threat, simply acknowledging that if things didn’t seem to be going their way the two people Sherlock cared most for shouldn’t be in London. They had agreed a long time ago, when Emmalynn was still young that they needed a secret rendezvous point, it had remained the same place. Mycroft was the only other person that knew where it was. If something happened to Sherlock, Mycroft, despite his many flaws, would keep them safe.

 

Sherlock had to focus on find Moriarty’s new web in London. Clearly he wasn’t here, simply using others to watch and report and god forbid carry out whatever new game he was playing at. He would start at Bart’s and weave his way back to the flat.

 

_____10 years ago______

 

 

Emmalynn’s Birthday party was loud and as extravagant as Mycroft had bragged that it would be. Sherlock should have expected no less from his show off of a brother.

 

“Who left your brother in charge again?” John grumbled from his shaded gazebo seat. John had been carrying on with the children and exhausted himself hours ago. He and Sherlock sat watching the sun set from Mycroft’s backyard, Emmalynn fast asleep on his lap, exhausted as well.

 

“He did us a favor, so we did him one. Besides, Emmalynn and her friends enjoyed themselves.” Sherlock relented.

 

“Yes, whichever friends she has left.” Sherlock simply raised an eyebrow at John’s comment. “You interrogated every set of parents. I’m sure they won’t be bringing their children around again anytime soon.” John explained.

 

“I’m just being thorough. I’m sure there are more than a few she’ll be better without.”

 

“You can’t be her best friend forever Sherlock. She’ll grow up, and god help us she’ll be a teenager and hate us no matter what we do.” Johns voice was light with emotion, thinking of the future, how fast everything seemed to be going all of a sudden.

 

“I’m not her best friend. The scrawny freckled one is. She told me four times today.” John tried not to smirk at the clear tones of jealously hidden in every word Sherlock spoke.

 

“Her name is Madeline, Sherlock.”

 

“Unimportant. Her parents were dull, average. I can’t stand them.” He dismissed them outright.

 

“You seemed to get along with her twin brother Ollie.”

 

“Yes.” Sherlock grinned in spite of himself. “We had a chat about the different types of earthworms native to Britain. Him I like.”

 

“Of course you do.” John chuckled. Emmalynn stirred in John’s lap, rubbing her eyes and suppressing a yawn.“Hey you ready to head home, kiddo?”

 

“Are the ponies gone?” Emmalynn asked, voice thick with sleep.

 

“Yes, the ponies have all gone home too.” John’s smile was warm and infectious. Sherlock wanted to curl into the warmth of that smile.

 

“Yeah, we can go home.” She mumbled, quite disappointed.

 

“I figured as much. Come on.” Emmalynn refused to walk, and after John shot him a pleading and tired look, Sherlock picked their Daughter up and headed back into the house. She was asleep before they reached the car.

 

As soon as he had her wrapped up in her own bed, Sherlock found John relaxing in theirs.

 

“All things considered, not a bad day.” John slipped a marker into his book and placed it back on his nightstand. “She wake back up?”

 

“No, I just…” Sherlock trailed off. “Is that wrong?” He said after a moment.

 

“There is nothing wrong with watching her sleep. I used to do it when she was still a baby, those first few months after she showed up. All my medical training and I was so worried there was something wrong that I couldn’t see.” John was lost in memory a moment. Sherlock joined him under the blankets, letting John wrap an arm around him.

 

“I am the worst sort of tired.” Sherlock admitted.

 

“You mean you may actually sleep? I should make you deal with other parents more often.” John smiled as Sherlock made a small angry and unimpressed noise that seemed to mean that was never going to happen. “Alright I get it. Tired. I’m right there with you.” John turned off the lamp and twisted Sherlock’s hair through his fingers until they both fell asleep.

 

Sherlock awoke Several hours to John pressing a gun into his hand. It had taken a long time to convince John to let Sherlock have one, and even then it was a rare occasion that they were both armed anymore. John stood by the door, finger to his lips. The door was slightly ajar, a light they didn’t leave on spilling in from the kitchen. Sherlock was careful to move as little as possible as he stood,waiting for instruction from John.

 

John peeked through the door again. He flashed Sherlock three fingers. Three intruders. John signaled again. All armed. Johns lips moved to count from three.

 

When John flipped the bedroom door open they emerged into a stand off. No one fired.

 

“Hello Sherlock.” A voice spoke from the darkness of the den that the small kitchen light hadn’t reached.

 

“Moriarty.” It was John that spit the name.

 

“I’d drop the weapons boys. Wouldn’t want to wake the baby.” Sherlock felt as if he’d been doused in cold water. John hesitated a moment but slid his weapon across the floor.

 

“Naughty, Naughty Sherlock.” Moriarty tsked. “Simon says, put. IT. _DOWN_!” The growl was ferocious, and Sherlock did as he was told.

 

“What do you want?” Sherlock almost didn’t recognize his own voice, it had gone robotic.

 

“I made a promise Sherlock. I intend to keep it. I don’t forget,and I never forgive. You made me kill someone I liked.” His words were crisp and perfectly enunciated, punctuated by something that Sherlock recognized as an end call tone. Before Sherlock could make connections regarding what had been said there was screaming from upstairs. His heart lurched, he saw John move to go to their daughter but the weapons trained on them shifted in reminder. “Don’t worry. She’ll live.” The sound of a smile in Moriarty’s voice made Sherlock’s stomach turn. The bastard was enjoying this.

 

“You won’t be so lucky.” John spit, livid. Sherlock wished he could be angry, but all he felt was powerless and ill.

 

“Oh your little dog does have quite a bark, Sherlock.” Moriarty was speaking but Sherlock could only hear the screaming. He stood there, his body numb as Moriarty approached. “Just remember.” He whispered in Sherlock’s ear. “You did this. All of this, could have been avoided if you’d have just done as you were told.”

 

Moriarty left the flat with one of his henchman. Two of them were still trained on John and Sherlock. After a moment there was a sound of feet pounding down the stairs from Emmalynn’s room and the two left soon after. John immediately jumped for the gun, heading up the stairs to Emmalynn’s room, his phone in his hand. Stress. John could be perfect under such monumental stress. Sherlock was ruined. He couldn’t do this. His daughter was dead. Dead. His fault. All his fault.

 

“Sherlock!” John cradled a small lifeless body that couldn’t possibly be their daughter in his arms. “The kit, now. I called an ambulance, and your Brother, wherever the bloody hell he and his useless fecking surveillance is. I need your help.” Sherlock wasn’t responding. John sat on the sofa, still cradling her. “ _Sherlock_ I swear to god I will shoot you.” John instead Shot at Sherlock’s chair, then tossed the weapon into it. The noise was enough to rouse Sherlock into action, but it also elicited sobs and screams from Emmalynn. “I’m so sorry love. Papa’s here, I’ll fix it I promise.”

 

There was so much blood. Sherlock wanted to vomit. He’d seen so much blood and it had never effected him this horrible. This wasn’t just blood, this belonged to his child. A child he’d caused harm to come to. His fault. All his fault.

 

“John.” Sherlock croaked, opening the first aid kit and setting it next to John. Time wasn’t passing for him like it should be. He couldn’t even remember pulling the kit from the cabinet. “What…what does it say?” He’d noticed the familiar shape of letters… _god the blood_.

 

“Not now. The morphine Sherlock.” Their first aid kit wasn’t exactly standard but in their line of work they’d collected an assortment of wounds they sometimes couldn’t make it to the ER for. “Not too much.” Sherlock lost track of what was happening at this point. John however, John was perfect. John was pressing gauze and managing to negotiate with a flailing panicked child on his own. Sherlock retreated to the kitchen watching from as far away as he could be and still see her. He’d shut down. He couldn’t afford to feel anything. Not now.

 

Mycroft arrived before the ambulance. He tried to help John but when he got close Emmalynn started screeching worse. She hadn’t done that with Sherlock, but she didn’t know yet what he’d done. When the police and the ambulance arrived John was already convinced that he was going to have to stitch the deeper cuts himself. There were deep slashes across her abdomen and he couldn’t have her continuing to panic and thrash with what little strength she had. He also couldn’t sedate her anymore, it was too dangerous. “Da? Where’s Da? I want Da!” She kept asking and John couldn’t answer her anymore or yell at Sherlock either. He had to focus, he couldn’t be Papa, he had to be a Doctor.

 

“Hush now love. Lemme get you all fixed and we’ll go find Da together, all right?”

 

Mycroft stayed next to his brother, watching him carefully. Sherlock had never seen the elder Holmes so afraid.

 

Hours later, when the police had gone and John had coaxed a recovering and now sedated Emmalynn into an ambulance to the hospital, Mycroft still sat with Sherlock in the flat.

 

“Where are you bother mine?” Mycroft asked, studying him.

 

“She’ll have those…scars…forever won’t she?” Sherlock’s voice had gone soft and toneless.

 

“There’s no telling what it will look like as she grows up.” Mycroft tried.

 

“I’ll know. I can’t look at her. I can’t answer her when she questions me about this.” Sherlock’s mind threatened to leave him again. “Mycroft I. Can’t. Do. This.”

 

“You have to. You are the only one that has any hope of finding him and ending this.”

 

“Ending?” Sherlock echoed.

 

“Kill him Sherlock. No more games. You put a bullet in his head and you don’t look back.” Mycroft’s voice betrayed no emotion.

 

“And Emmalynn? When she grows up and questions why?” 

 

“You be her father. You be there for her.”

 

“I can’t do both.”

 

“You have to.”

 

“No I don’t. That is why she has John.”

 

“This isn’t your fault, Sherlock.” Lies. All of it. Mycroft had been close enough to see. He knew what had been cruelly carved into his little girls skin.

 

_I O U_

 

 

_____Present Day_____

 

_I O U_

 

_I O U_

 

Sherlock let himself spin in memories that he wasn’t supposed to have anymore. The things he’d kept buried, things he’d thought he’d deleted. He was wrong. That kept happening lately.

 

_Slipping in your old age?_

 

A familiar voice that wasn’t really there, just in his head, taunting him. So much like in real life. Jim Moriarty. Always there, even when he wasn’t.

 

Only a few hours had gone by since he’d left the recital, but it was still rather early in the night. Only about one in the morning. John would wait until 3am before he and Emmalynn would leave. They didn’t need to leave. They had to stay in London, Sherlock could beat him this time. There wasn’t any other option.

 

Sherlock’s hands were starting to shake long before he noticed the police cars and ambulances. The lights blurred his vision and his heart pounded so loud in his hears it was deafening. He had the car door open before the Cabbie had proper time enough to come to a complete stop. 221B was engulfed in smoke, it was pouring from any open window it could find. Sherlock didn’t see fire but there had to be one. So much smoke. His eyes flashed to Emmalynn’s room. Emmalynn.

 

Sherlock was vaguely aware of Lestrade trying to grab his attention. Sherlock registered faces but not voices. He saw John, Mrs.Hudson…where the hell was his daughter? Lestrade was still shouting but there wasn't time. They were doing nothing. Not enough. Nothing was enough. Where was she? Before he’d made the conscious decision his feet were taking him into the flat, his coat collar pulled over his nose and mouth to avoid as much smoke as possible. The fire had started in Mrs.Hudson’s flat, it was out from what he could tell. Possible gas leak however. Explaining why everyone was so far from the building and no one was inside looking for his bloody child.

 

Sherlock wasn’t aware of his still panicked and heavy breathing. He didn’t care that he was getting light headed and his vision was darkening. He had to find her. She was the only thing that mattered.

  
If he ever saw James Moriarty again he was a dead man. No questions. No games. He would bury the body himself.

 

“EMMALYNN!” Sherlock was screaming her name over and over. No response.

 

Sherlock heard his name being called. A slew of swears. Lestrade.

 

Sherlock’s lungs ached and his memory swam. It was that night all over again and he was useless. Fucking useless. He couldn’t breath. Couldn’t find her. Couldn’t move anymore. Sherlock leaned into a wall as his vision pitched again, struggling to pull oxygen into his lungs but getting nothing but smoke.

 

_I Will Burn the Heart out of you._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How am I doing so far? This is my first full fledged Sherlock fanfic, I'm getting nervous. It's also going a bit darker than I first anticipated...


	5. Fighting For Ordinary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long, but it is a long one. Trying to stay motivated. Hope it's a good one!

I checked my phone in between my performances, which I knew I wasn’t exactly supposed to do, but it kept my nerves,thankfully, distracted. My solo was rapidly approaching and I was completely beside myself. I took a moment to contemplate the most recent riddle.

_I give you a group of three. One is sitting down, and will never get up. The second eats as much as is given to him, yet is always hungry. The third goes away and never returns._

The three answers had to be connected obviously. I was too distracted with my day to give it a proper look over. I tried to break it down and solve one line, hoping it would clue me in to the other two.

_The second eats as much as is given to him, yet is always hungry._

I mulled it over as I watched the performance ahead of mine. I was shaking, peaking through the curtain I tried to focus on the riddle. I glanced through the crowd, looking for where I knew Papa was sitting. My heart nearly stopped. If his features hadn’t been lit by the glow of his cell phone I would have doubted the black mop of hair belonged to my Da at all. He looked worried if not a little bored. Distracted. Something was clearly wrong but I couldn’t tell. Maybe it was just being dragged here. The music drew to a close and I saw Papa jab Da with an elbow, his cell phone dropping back into his coat pocket. I was pushed on stage and the lighting made it impossible to see anyone beyond the front row.

I somehow made it to my starting position and waited. The music started and I went away. I could never describe it as clearly as my father could. That space in my head that I went when I danced. He said it was the same place his music took him sometimes. His mind palace. I didn’t call it anything as pretentious. My place could barely be called a room. It was just vast blank space. A canvas in my mind, my body painting a picture. There was no one else. No lights, no stage. I felt so much clarity. My worry melted away and the tremor of nerves became solid and purposeful. I hadn’t realized how much I had needed this, craved it. I felt powerful. I felt perfect. Fuck everything going on in my life. Forget the stupid things that kept me in constant wonder about who I was and what I was doing. Everything was lost to this perfectly framed moment in time.

When the song ended and reality came crashing down, I took a bow and headed off the stage. It took me a moment to come back from my little break from the world. When I was back in the present I escaped to the hall to find Maddie jumping up and down. “I watched from the monitor. You’re so beautiful I can’t stand it!” She squealed and I was finally able to smile.

“Thank you. I could barely breath.” I hugged her tight, letting her compliments wash over me and brushed her off after a moment. “My Da’s out there.”

“You mean he actually came?” Madeline didn’t seem impressed.

“Yeah.”

“Good thing he didn’t miss this one, I would have had to have a word”

“I would kind of like to see that.” I admitted, letting her lead me down the corridor to the dressing rooms. We were both finished performing for the evening. When we reached the room I immediately spotted the large bouquet of roses on the vanity I had claimed as my own. Madeline squealed again, flicking through them for a card.

“It just says your name, signed from ‘M’. Your uncle Mycroft is a man of few words.” She grumbled, clearly disappointed that it wasn’t from a secret admirer. I longed to change into loose clothing, but there were bound to be pictures taken, so I instead pulled on a simple black dress, leaving my makeup in place. I also noticed a small box next to the flowers, I opened it, revealing a very expensive looking necklace, it was simple, round with an intricate engraving of my initials surrounded with what looked suspiciously like genuine flawless diamonds. Though it looked like a locket, it didn’t open. I was a very spoiled niece indeed. I immediately added the necklace to my outfit, it rested in the hollow of my neck perfectly.

“Are we going anywhere tonight?” Madeline asked, adding darker shadow to her eyes. “Like to celebrate?”

“We should, I think.” I felt proud of myself. I felt like spending time with my friends. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well actually, Ollie wanted to know if he could take us out for dinner.” She gave me a sideways glance.

“What? Really?” Nothing had really changed between Ollie and I the last couple of days. He’d still been distant and he hadn’t been particularly warm towards me. This revelation came as a genuine surprise.

“I was going to ask if something happened that I didn’t know about. I mean, I know he’s never really cared for spending time with you, which I got over a long time ago. Lately he’s been distant with me too though…you know?” I did know what she meant. I’d thought about it a lot lately. I didn’t like feeling like I was driving a wedge between Madeline and her twin brother.

“Maybe he misses spending time with you…maybe-” I feigned as gasp of surprise. “He’s trying to be a good brother and take his sister and her friend out just to be, dare I say it, nice!” Madeline shoved me playfully, laughing at my ridiculous dramatics.

“Really though, do you think he’s trying to make things better between us?” Madeline’s tone was hesitant, like she was afraid of being disappointed if she was wrong.

“People change Maddie, and I know for awhile things changed for the worst but,” I selfishly thought of my father then. “Sometimes people realize there are parts of their lives that are missing, that they want back. Sometimes family comes back to one another for seemingly no reason, and you just have to let them, and be grateful that they finally got over themselves and found you again.”

“Are we talking about Oliver or Sherlock Holmes?” Madeline raised a knowing eyebrow.

“Both of them, for they are both idiots for not realizing what a gift it is to know us.” I smirked with more confidence than I felt, but Madeline seemed to brighten at the sentiment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The crowd was a sea of flowers and sparkles and camera flashes. I felt like a starlet. I knew I wouldn’t find any of my family among them. Not one of them appreciated crowds. Sure enough my phone chorused with several messages.

_Wonderful as always. You keep me cultured. Hope the gift was acceptable. -MH_

“Sorry I had to miss it dear, pop in tomorrow and tell me all about it.” Came a voicemail from Mrs. Hudson.

_Greg and I are out front when you’re finish fighting off your rabid fans. -JW_

“Look there’s Ollie and Mum.” Madeline tugged at my arm and pulled me towards them, my roses awkwardly held in my arms and we tried to push through the throng of bodies politely as possible.

I watched my toes, peaking out of the flats I’d put on as Madeline embraced her Mother and chatted excitedly about the show. I wasn’t quite sure what to do with myself. I didn’t look up until Oliver cleared his throat.

“I um. I got this for you.” He handed me a single white rose, his eyes avoiding mine. I took it from him, but before I could thank him he turned to Maddie. “Got one for you too.” He handed her a yellow rose, his Mother looked pleased.

“Come here, let me get a few photos of you Madeline dear.” Her Mother pulled her protesting daughter back into the crowd and I started to get the creeping impression that I was being set up.

“Um. I should go find my parents.” I smiled uneasily.

“Wait.” He’d grabbed my hand but dropped it immediately, as if only just realizing what he’d done. “Sorry. Um.” Oliver seemed to contemplate something a moment. “Would you like to go to dinner?”

“Maddie mentioned something about it. I think it’s a nice idea, the three of us-”

“No. Actually I-” He chewed at his bottom lip, finally looking at me from behind his mess of longish brown locks. He was struggling to find words and I seemed to reach his intentions before he did.

“Oh. You meant just you and me?” He laughed nervously looking away from me again. I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t anticipated this. Working on his relationship with his sister made sense, asking me on a date? This didn’t match any of his previous behaviors…then again… I’d had crushes before. Once upon a time I probably had a crush on Ollie when we were kids, probably dropping it once he’d started playing pranks on Maddie and I. Wasn’t that a childish thing people talked about though, boys picking on the girls they liked? Had Ollie really been harboring a crush this entire time. I realized during my rolling deduction that Oliver was waiting for a response. “Yes.”

“Really?” He grinned now, with something that looked a bit like astonishment.

“I can’t possibly be that intimidating. We’ve known each other forever Ollie, though I must admit, this is kind of out of nowhere.” I kept my tone polite, but I really was curious as to his out of nowhere intentions.

“I know. Sorry. I’m kind of horrible with social things.” I could completely respect that, my entire family was horrid with the mention of the word social.

“No, It’s okay. I can understand that. Um.” I glanced around but saw no sign of Maddie or Mrs.James. “I’m going to find my Papa and I’ll catch up with you okay?” Oliver nodded and headed off to find his sister and mother. I realized then how hard my heart was beating. I’d never been asked on a date before. I’d never in a million years considered a date with Oliver. Was it a date? Yes. Dinner was most certainly a date. I pushed out the doors of the school to find Uncle Greg smoking a cigarette, Papa standing with him.

“Honestly, on school grounds?” I teased walking up to them. Uncle Greg tossed the cigarette to the ground, putting it out with his foot.

“Hey, there’s our star.” Greg opened his arms and I threw mine around him not caring that my flowers might get crushed, appreciating the hug, but pondering the cigarette. What was he stressing about so bad that he’d pick up a habit he’d put to bed years ago? I used the hug to glance at Papa, trying to gather what information I could from his facial expression and posture when he thought I couldn’t see. He was strained, stressed, suppressing internal panic. When I pulled back from Greg, Papa’s whole demeanor changed.

Papa smiled warmly, pushing a strand of loose hair from my eyes and tucking it behind my ear. He oozed pride and I basked in it a moment. “Pretty roses, and jewelry.” He noted raising an eyebrow.

“Uncle Myc, and Oliver, actually.”

“Oliver?” He paused a moment, trying to recollect if we knew any other boys named Oliver. “Maddie’s brother?”

“Yes. I know what you’re thinking, but he’s asked me to dinner tonight.” I tried to keep the wince out of my voice.

“Well you knew you’d be beating the boys off someday John.” Greg whistled, teasing. So not helping.

“Oh hush.” I glared in his direction before turning back to Papa. “I won’t be late, I promise-”

“No.”

“What? Why?” I blinked at him dumbly.

“Because I said no, we’re going home” Papa was clearly putting his foot down, but I couldn’t decipher why.

“John, it’s just dinner.” Uncle Greg tried to reason with him, but I could tell by Papa’s expression it wasn’t helping.

“I said no. That’s the end of it.”

“Don’t get short with me because your mad at Da!” I assumed Da leaving early had something to do with Papa being upset.

“Your Father has nothing to do with this, Emmalynn.” He looked tired and utterly done. “Please don’t argue, just come home.”

I looked to Uncle Greg for help but he seemed to sense that there was more going on here, and though he looked worried at Papa, he didn’t interject any further.

“Fine. I’ll go get my bag out of Maddie’s car.” I grumbled.

~~~~~~~

_If you don’t come home this instant you are grounded for the rest of eternity. -JW_

_Is that a promise? -EHW_

I was being a sarcastic brat but I didn’t really care anymore. I’d gone back to find Maddie and Oliver arguing before Madeline had relented to letting Ollie and I go to dinner as long as I promised to stay at their house and watch movies until a ridiculous hour in the morning. It was a win/win as far as I was concerned. Madeline even agreed to let us borrow her car.

_I’m staying at Maddie’s, in her room, so don’t worry. I’ll be home tomorrow. Ground me all you like. - EHW_

I didn’t get a response for awhile, which made me feel smug, and lightly terrified. Was he actually so mad he wasn’t speaking to me? Well, it suited me just fine. This was his fault. I deserved to have a night with my friends, I’d worked hard to be perfect at that recital, didn’t he see that? I decided to damn the consequences. Papa would come or send Uncle Myc after me if he was really that upset, I’d told them where I was staying. I shut off my phone for good measure.

“So did you have anywhere in mind for dinner?” Oliver asked from the drivers seat.

“No I hadn’t thought about it actually.” I sounded angry. I hadn’t meant to. He’d flinched. “Sorry, it’s not you.”

“I’d hoped I wasn’t doing that poorly.” He smiled lightly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“My Papa is just being over protective, which I understand, I just want to have a nice night without my parents ruining it with their own issues.”

“I can understand that, but you didn’t have to fight him just to go out with me. I would have waited for another day.” He was quiet a moment, before adding quietly. “I’ve waiting this long.”

“How long have you been waiting to ask me on a date?”

“Hm… I think I’ve always had a stupid crush on you. One of those I find you so interesting I want to stick bubble gum in your hair things?” He laughed at his own ridiculousness and I joined him, his laughter infectious. “Honestly? I think I realized I might have feelings for you last summer, when you and Maddie had that huge fight. She was talking about never seeing you again, and she sounded so sincere. You’d had fights before but nothing like that. I actually sat down and thought about it,and the idea that you wouldn’t be intruding on my day to day life bothered me a bloody hell of a lot more than it should of.” His eyes seemed lost in the memory.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Madeline and I had fought over something Da had done. She was sleeping over and he’d come into the flat in a state. He was all upturned collar and vacant expressions. Da was completely in his head, a case jumbling his mind and occupying his consciousness. I tried to keep us to my bedroom, but we’d come down the stairs to find something to snack on. Da was standing by the window, staring off, his violin still perched on his shoulder.

I should have known better really, should have just turned around and went back upstairs, or at least sent Madeline back up. I can usually ignore him at this point.

“You girls aren’t sleeping yet?” Papa was sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a cuppa, a novel perched open in front of him. He’d have been more comfortable on the sofa or his bed but I had a feeling he was trying to keep an eye on Da while also keeping his distance.

“I would think that was obvious.” Da drawled from the living room. Madeline looked nervous but Papa smiled warmly.

“Just ignore him, I always do.” I was thankful at least one of my parents was normal.

“We’re just going to grab some crisps and drinks, if that’s okay.” Papa nodded and I rifled though the cupboard, tossing a bag of crisps to Madeline before turning to find something bottled in the fridge so I wouldn’t have to bother with glasses.

“Is all the insufferable noise really necessary?” The tone in his voice was vile, it made my skin crawl.

“Sherlock-” Papas tone was a warning, but he didn’t look up from his book.

“Honestly feeding at least one of them is pointless anyway.” Da said it off handed. I froze, knowing exactly what he meant but refusing to believe I’d actually heard it. It took Maddie a few seconds to place the statement for herself. I turned to see Papa looking between us, clearly realizing something horrible had been said but unsure what or how to fix it quickly enough.

“You told him?” Madeline’s voice had gone up an octave, halfway between hurt and rage.

“Don’t be stupid.” Da lifted his bow, perhaps realizing his mistake, perhaps just bored with the conversation.

“I’ll take care of him, Emmalynn you two should go upstairs.” Papa mumbled something to Maddie that I didn’t quite catch, probably an apology. She looked at me, tears welling in her eyes, expecting an explanation. I slammed the fridge, furious. I practically pulled Madeline into the hall, heading for my room.

“No.” Before we’d started up my stairs she’d pulled away.

“Maddie I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t tell him.”

“How else could he know?” She was screaming at me. I hated the way she was looking at me, and something in my brain flicked like a switch, I didn’t want to feel what I was feeling, so something else took over. Auto-Pilot.

“Frequent trips to the bathroom after meals, there’s a stain from the vomit on the back of your pajama sleeve that wasn’t there before dinner. Unusual swelling of the cheeks, it’s not terribly noticeable but knowing him, and the other signs, he noticed. Calluses on the back of your hands and knuckles from self-induced vomiting. Slight staining of your teeth, again not terribly noticeable to someone who isn’t paying close attention-” I realized too late that I was being no better than him. In fact I was speaking exactly like him, I was making things so much worse, his signature move. “That’s how he knew… by looking.” I concluded in a whisper.

“How dare you- I can’t even-.” Her voice was small, broken, but hateful. “Freaks. Both of you.” I know she didn’t mean it, but it stung.

She waited downstairs with Mrs. Hudson for her parents to come get her. We didn’t speak for two months. She still refused to spend much time occupying space with my father. I never tried to deduce her out loud again, even when she asked, and I tried to never let myself go to that auto-pilot head space again.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You okay in there?” I looked back from the passenger side window, having escaped into my mind.

“Sorry.” I blushed, but his eyes were too focused on the road to notice.

“It’s fine, I understand. Mind like that, it has to be pretty easy to get lost.” It was an interesting compliment. I’d never thought of it like that before, my blush deepened.

Oliver eventually pulled into a small dimly lit restaurant not all that far from my own flat. I’d walked passed it a dozen times but not given it a second thought. Oliver and Maddie’s parents were marginally well off, perhaps not as much as my Uncle, but still much more than my parents. Ollie’s choice in restaurant didn’t reflect this. I knew what his allowance was, Maddie got the same, but he’d still not chosen to show off. I appreciated that. I still wasn’t sure how I felt about the situation. I liked Ollie, he was Maddie’s brother, we’d grown up together. However, I wasn’t sure I LIKED Ollie. I wasn’t sure I could love or care for him in more than the sense of a brother.

We were seated at a table near the kitchen, wonderful smells wafting from the double doors, lighting my senses and I tried to guess what the mixture of aromas was from. The restaurant boasted fine French cuisine, and I had trouble deciding what to order, my Parents usually went for Chinese or Italian.

Oliver seemed to be having less trouble, but was clearly faking confusion for my benefit. “I’m just going to order the first thing I can pronounce.” I laughed lightly and he skimmed his menu and before folding it again and placing it in front of him.

We got through ordering and sat in a moment of awkward silence after the waiter had departed, neither of us quite sure what we were supposed to say to the other.

“I’m sorry if I strained things between you and your parents. I didn’t mean for you to get into trouble.” He played with the end of his napkin, not looking at me.

“Trust me, things with my parents and I are always strained. We’ll be just fine.” He looked up, his smile returning. “Just don’t be surprised if at any point during the night my Uncle’s P.A. swoops in to take me back home.” He chuckled, and I was able to relax. I reached to the necklace my Uncle had given me, twisting in my fingers, trying to calm the nerves that were threatening to make me say something foolish.

“So. In case you haven’t heard it a million times over, your solo tonight was incredible, and I don’t even like being dragged to those bloody things.”

“I don’t know whether to be flattered or annoyed at you calling my passion a ‘bloody thing’.” I eyed him but he shrugged it off, his confidence clearly growing.

“I don’t have to like everything, and I don’t. I just liked watching you.” He hid behind his glass, a awkward silence falling between us at his admission. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that to be quite that intense.”

“It’s fine.” I shrugged, it really was fine. I’d learned to brush off those moments when the subtle nuances of language got the better of people. It happened to my Da on a constant basis. I will never understand how my Papa was able to navigate through that and still stumble whole heartedly into a long and devoted relationship.

“I just want to get this right.” Oliver mumbled.

“So far, so good”

“Really?” His tone varied and octave, not sure if I was being completely honest.

“You know me well enough to know that I’d tell you if I felt otherwise.” I pondered a moment. “I will admit this is different, and I don’t really know how to process it. For so long you’ve just been Ollie, my best friends brother, and occasional nemesis.” He chuckled again, we paused a moment as our meals were brought to us. I was lost in thought for a while longer, pushing my food around the plate.

“Tell me where the rest of your thoughts went. You stopped in the middle, I could tell.” He noticed my hesitation. “It’s okay. I know you’re worried about saying too much, don’t be. I’m curious. I won’t hold it against you.” His smile was light and I wished to bask in it’s glow forever, but he was expecting and answer. Was I supposed to just trust him? Did I have a real reason not to? He knew what he was in for, he knew everything that had happened between Maddie and I.

“Sometimes when I’m nervous the deductions and things don’t really stop.” I admitted, chewing at my lip.

“So I make you nervous?” He raised and amused eyebrow and I tried to fight my blush.

“Not you. The situation.”

“You do it at school, in the mornings.” I didn’t bother asking how he knew about that. Word around school traveled, and his sister was just as talkative.

“That’s different.”

“How?” I couldn’t answer him. I guess it wasn’t really all that different. I pondered before answering.

“I don’t care about them.”

“That’s rubbish if I’ve ever heard it.”

“Okay fine. Maybe it’s because in those situations I have nothing to lose. I’m under very little pressure, it’s just a magic trick. With situations like with Maddie and now…it’s like if I don’t keep my mouth and mind shut, I’ll lose everything.”

“You’re father seems to get away with it just fine.” It wasn’t said cruelly, or judgmental, merely a statement of fact.

“I’m nothing like my father.” I say it was more force and bite than I mean to, Ollie’s eye’s snap to mine. To my surprise he looks amused.

“There it is. There’s the real reason.”

“What, Daddy issues?” I scoffed.

“Isn’t that everyone’s problem?”

“I doubt even Sherlock Holmes has gotten to that many people.”

“You know what I mean, you’re deflecting” He made his voice softer, trying to make me feel less attacked.

“What are you trying to prove?”

“That you’re normal. Ordinary.”

“Gee, thanks.” I rolled my eyes, taking a sip of my water.

“Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure that you aren’t.”

“Than why try to prove that I am?”

“Because you want to be” He was quiet a moment. “I will never understand why. You shouldn’t strive to be normal. I get why you want it so badly. You want to fit in, to be one of many, to not stick out of the crowd as being a Holmes. I just wish you wouldn’t. In trying so hard not to be like him you haven’t noticed that you are so much better than that.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that. My heart felt heavy, but not in a way that indicated sadness, this was something new that I wasn’t quite sure how to handle yet. I wanted to call him a nosy prat and to storm off, but I couldn’t move. I also had the urge to kiss him. Also new. Also didn’t know how to process that.

“Dessert Sir, Miss?” The waiter had returned without me realizing it, his voice making me jump. Oliver looked over at me but I shook my head.

“No that’s all, thank you.” Oliver smiled handing the waiter his credit card. I watched the waiter walk away before turning to notice that Ollie was staring at me.

“What? Something on my face?” I hated how agitated I sounded all of a sudden.

“Trying to decide how upset I’ve gotten you, clearly very upset.” He looked like he really regretted it, but my mind wouldn’t accept his unspoken apology. “That wasn’t my intention.” I took a deep breath.

“I know. I didn’t mean to get so defensive…just…give me a moment to turn it off.” I took a few more steadying breaths. I felt interrogated but I’m not sure why, sure he’d prodded where no one had before, but a lot of what he’d said were things that have crossed my mind. Why couldn’t I just accept that maybe he was trying to be nice and let me vent, trying to be friend. I put my fingers to my temples and tried to dissolve the growing tension. Oliver didn’t say anything, he just waited. I brushed my fingers through my hair and opened my eyes, aware that I’d probably awarded us some confused glances from the other patrons.

“Better?”

“Much.” My lips curled in genuine smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oliver turned the headlights off before we turned into his parents driveway, so no one would know we were home quite yet. I felt like there was so much more that I wanted to say, like there would never be another opportunity, but I didn’t quite know where to start.

“Your mind is racing again.”

“Sorry.”

“You’re always so sorry. Don’t be sorry, be Emmalynn.” I tried to hide the grin that snuck up on me but it was useless. I’d never been so conflictingly happy.

“I’ll try my best.”

“That’s all I can expect.”

“I should get inside. My phone’s been off Maddie’s going to be furious.”

“I let her know we were heading home, she’s probably waiting at the door to ask how horrible I was to you.”

“I’ll make sure to tell her you were awful.”

“You’d better, I have a reputation to uphold after all.” We were laughing at our own stupid jokes, both inching forward without realizing it. I don’t even recall who closed the gap first. Before I knew it my lips were on his and my mind went blank. Yes, I’d kissed a boy before, but it’d been sloppy, meaningless this… I couldn’t analyze it, I couldn’t deduce it, hell I could barely keep track of what my lips were doing. After what felt like fleeting seconds, but could have been more I pulled back, my face heated, clearly flustered. Oliver looked a conflicted, like he wanted to say something, but I let it pass without prompting an answer.

“Come on, I’ll make sure I leave that last bit out of my report.” I smirked and opened my car door. I could see a ghost of a smile on his lips, his eyes flicking to me constantly as we walked towards the front door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I collapsed onto Madeline’s sofa, pulling the blanket around me. Oliver had been chased upstairs by Mr.James an hour ago, with a warning that he should stay there until morning if I was ever to be allowed over again. Madeline had rolled her eyes and sworn she’d rather eat live eels than watch us cuddling on the couch all night. I promptly threw my pillow at the back of her head.

We settled in and chose a movie, splitting a bag of crisps between us. I plugged in my cell to charge without turning it on, I didn’t want to hear from anyone. They knew where I was if they needed me, so far Maddie’s phone hadn’t wrung, nor the house phone on the counter in the kitchen. I guess I’d won the argument. Papa was being unreasonable. Even though that was how I felt about the situation there was still a pit of guilt forming in my stomach. I still shouldn’t have disobeyed. Shouldn’t have been a brat. I should have went home and sulked and argued there like a normal teenager. I didn’t want to cause Papa grief, I didn’t want to make his job harder than it had to be.

Then again was it my fault that he was practically a single parent? No. It was Da’s.

This admission didn’t make me feel much better.

The first movie ended a little after one am, and halfway through the second there was a knock at the front door. Madeline and I jumped in spite of ourselves, looking to each other a moment before there was another knock.

“Should we answer?”

“Yeah, it might be my parents.” I drug myself from the comfort of the sofa and Maddie followed me to the door. When I took a peak through the window I took in the sight of my Uncle Myc. He’s posture was rigged, he was frowning, there was something written on his face that I thankfully didn’t see often.

“Who is it?” Maddie looked at me slightly annoyed that our night might be ruined after all.

“My Uncle Myc, somethings wrong.” I unlocked the door and pulled it open.

“You haven’t been answering your phone.” His tone was clipped.

“You obviously knew where I was, and Papa has Maddie’s cell number.” I stood my ground, still looking him over, waiting to figure out why he was here, it was clearly more important than taking me home for being disobedient. He would have sent someone else for that. “What’s happened?” My voice was barely a whisper, if I hadn’t felt the sentence escape my lips I would have doubted it was me.

“Sherlock-” His own voice betrayed his emotions, he cleared his throat and continued. “Your Father is in Hospital. He should be fine but-” Before he’d finished I’d turned back into the house, shoving what I could grab on my way passed into my bag, shoving my phone and charger in my pocket and pulling a sweatshirt on. Madeline grabbed my hand as I headed to the door.

“Do you want me to come with you? I just have to tell my parents…” She trailed off, her eyes jumping between me and the stairs, not sure what she was supposed to do.

“No, my Da’s come back from the dead before, I’m sure this is nothing.” I smiled to reassure her, but it didn’t reach my eyes. Uncle Myc cleared his throat again and I gave Maddie’s hand another squeeze before heading out the door. “It is nothing, right?” I glanced up at my Uncle, but he didn’t respond, already retreating inside his head. I was starting to think it was a particularly Holmsian trait.


End file.
